


Your Silent Strength

by staymagical



Series: At A Loss For Words [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Merlin, Hurt/Comfort, Mute!Merlin, Past Abuse, Past Mutilation, Protective!Arthur, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 10:30:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1547420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staymagical/pseuds/staymagical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Northern border lord, Lord Farin visits Camelot and Arthur's instructions for Merlin to stay out of the man's way don't exactly go according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Silent Strength

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place a little over a month after the end of At A Loss For Words. If you haven't read that story of mine, I recommend you do so in order for anything in this one to make sense.

Nerves were getting the better of Merlin.

He didn’t think he had ever been more nervous in all his life.

For today marked the first of many meetings involving the trade agreements with one of the northern border lords, Lord Farin. Farin had recently ascended to his title after his father passed last winter, leaving the now Lord Farin to run and law over their rather large village. And as per usual when a new authority in one of the villages arose, Arthur felt the need to call the lord forth for a visit and a variety of meetings to ensure everything was in order and running smoothly. Later in the year, Arthur would then personally journey to the village to see it all for himself.

However, this was to be Merlin’s first introduction and meeting as Arthur’s court advisor with someone outside the initial council and inner circle. Hence, the nerves.

It had been a shock to the kingdom years ago upon hearing that Arthur was knighting commoners and the council had not taken that news that well either. But Arthur was Crowned Prince and regent at the time so there was very little they could do apart from voice their distastes. So, raising a simple farm boy’s status from lowly servant to court advisor would be equally as shocking, Merlin had no doubt. He had already witnessed some of the older council member’s distaste at his exceedingly small but apparently significant—to them, at least—rise in social standing but those members fortunately so far only voiced their opinions within Arthur or another knight’s hearing range and they were quickly silenced. But Merlin could still feel their displeasure rolling off them in waves every time he wrote something down that he wished to be voiced aloud in his stead. And it didn’t help that Arthur had insisted on being his voice during the meetings. It didn’t matter that he was still Arthur’s servant and regularly seen washing the king’s dirty smallclothes, or mucking out the stable—a chore that was only given now as punishment to cheek or forgetfulness—to them he was a simpleton, a commoner, unable to even speak for himself let alone give council. The knights, of course, had been more than happy to see him join them at the round table and Gwaine had even said it was indeed long overdue. He had a voice now, maybe not literally but in the way that counted and much more than he had ever had before his disability. Although it didn’t make up for what he had to live with now, it certainly gave it a more positive edge.

And Merlin was proud of the position he now held. It was an honor to sit next to Arthur and make a difference in the kingdom.

He walked with that pride down the hallway now, heading to Arthur’s chambers after being summoned there not a few minutes earlier. He had been in the armory returning Arthur’s armor and sword to its proper gleam and place after tending to him during training when a servant came bustling in. After catching his breath, the boy had stated that Lord Farin had just arrived not ten minutes ago—a day early, by the gods—and Arthur requested Merlin join him in his chambers immediately for the preliminary meeting they were supposed to have that night before the lord’s scheduled arrival the day following. Well, it seemed things were to be hastily pushed forward. It didn’t help Merlin’s nerves at all, not one bit.

So focused was he on attempting to calm his quaking nerves that Merlin didn’t even notice the head poking out of the guest chambers ahead, looking up and down the corridor in irritation until the eyes alighted upon Merlin.

“You there, servant. I require your services.” Merlin’s head shot up, startled at the sound of the unfamiliar deep commanding voice that echoed down the corridor. Not a few paces in front of him stood a well-built man dressed in a travel-worn tunic and breeches, a scowl slowly forming upon his sun-kissed face beneath a mop of light brown curly hair. “Come now, I would like it done sometime this hour,” he barked, eyes boring in Merlin.

Merlin snapped out of the haze he was in and paused for a second. Arthur was waiting for him, had ordered him to his chambers immediately so really, he shouldn’t dally. But clearly, if Merlin’s skill of observation and instincts were correct, this man now ordering him about was Lord Farin and without any other servants about—Merlin scanned left and right but the corridor was deserted save for himself and the lord who was getting angrier by the second with Merlin’s lack of movement—there was no way to talk his way out of servicing him right now. Not that Merlin could, really. Besides, technically he was still a servant.

Merlin quickly nodded a small bow as the lord opened his mouth to no doubt berate him on his supposed disobedience and followed the man inside. He immediately stopped dead in his tracks, not only from shock but also in order to not step on the various thing littered across what seemed to be every inch of the chamber floors. It was worse than the chaos Arthur’s chambers became after two days of neglect.

“Clean up this mess,” the lord ordered none too gently, gesturing to the chambers as a whole flippantly. “Seems my servant did fail to pack my best shirt so I’ve sent him to the market to obtain me a new one. Best you be finished by the time he comes back.” And with that, the lord plopped himself down on one of the plush chairs at the table, grabbed an apple from what Merlin assumed was a hastily put-together fruit bowl, and took a large bite.

Merlin bit his lip as he looked around the room. Clothes were strewn everywhere, books, parchment, quills, everything really. How this had happened in the very little time the lord had been here was beyond Merlin. And why the lord deemed he would need all these things for the two—now maybe three since he arrived early—days he was scheduled to be here, Merlin couldn’t fathom. Plus, the young warlock wasn’t supposed to be serving the lord in any which way, Arthur had made that fact perfectly clear. With his disability and now his new place on the council, he shouldn’t be seen serving anyone but the king himself. It was, as Arthur put it, a disrespect to himself and even though Arthur didn’t say it, Merlin knew it was also a disrespect to the king himself. Merlin’s services were to no longer be loaned out to others.

But what was Merlin to do in this situation? He couldn’t very well tell the lord that he wasn’t allowed to attend to him, not with his inability to speak. And he didn’t dare use the lord’s parchment or ink—as he had forgotten to grab his charcoal and paper this morning, not that he remembered most days anyway—in order to tell him. Besides, the lord would no doubt take the disinclination to attend to him as an insult and Merlin did not want to make an enemy of the first outsider who would judge him within his new role. No, he would just have to carry out the lord’s wishes as quick as possible and hope Arthur would be somewhat understanding once he finally arrived.

With that thought in mind, Merlin got to work gathering up all the clothing, folding and putting them away neatly in the open trunk by the foot of the bed, along with collecting all the books, parchment, quills, and ink pots and organizing them upon the desk by the window. Why Lord Farin needed this done now and not when his servant returned, Merlin didn’t know. But nor would it do him any good to question it at this point.

As he was setting the last book upon the desk's gleaming surface, his nerves settling down somewhat at the anticipation of returning to the normality of Arthur’s presence, the lord’s deep voice resonated through the chambers once more. 

“Boy, pour me a cup of wine before you go.”

Merlin, trying very hard not to groan at being denied his leave, spotted the pitcher and grasping it, made his way over to where the lord still lounged at the table. As he reached over to pour the wine into the goblet upon the table, Lord Farin, having obviously not noticed that Merlin was already there, thrust the goblet up off the table toward the young warlock. The goblet and hand that clasped it knocked into the already tipping pitcher, dislodging its weight out of Merlin’s grasp and onto—as luck would have it—Lord Farin’s lap.

The lord jumped up with a howl, bumping the table in his haste to get away from the offensive staining liquid that now coated his entire front from tunic to breeches. Merlin was rooted to the spot for beat as his stunned brain tried to catch up with what had just happened. But soon enough he bolted into action, grabbing a cloth out of the wardrobe—all the guest chambers were stocked with cloths and towels thankfully—and returned to clean the lord up.

Instead he was met with an unexpected stinging pain to his left cheek as a force snapped his head to the side and with it, his body. His knees hit the stones of the chambers painfully.

A memory, swift and sudden rose up in his mind, the pain, the ache, the fear from that moment taking over his waking one now. He felt his breath hitch as the panic began to set in but firmly willed his mind back to the present and forced himself to take slow calming breaths, just like Gaius had taught him.

After a beat, Merlin found himself back at Lord Farin’s feet. He blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the moisture that had suddenly gathered in his eyes. 

“You fool!” He heard Farin shout, his voice deafening in the silence and causing Merlin to flinch instinctively. Merlin blinked a few more times to right his vision before tentatively glancing up at Farin. He tried, he really did try to not glare up at the lord but from the way the man’s look darkened even more, he knew he hadn’t succeeded. “This tunic costs more than you make in a week! And you have managed to ruin it in less than a second!”

Merlin knew this was usually the point in time when he should be apologizing but there was nothing he could do. He could not voice his apologies aloud and he would not—as he did not before—use parchment and quill and reduce himself further than he already felt at that moment. So instead, he did the only thing he could and bowed his head in what he hoped would be construed as a silent apology.

But it seemed that was not enough for Lord Farin. “How dare you,” he said, spitting out each word. “You will address me properly and apologize immediately for your incompetence.” Merlin could feel the man’s eyes glaring holes into his bowed head but he knew to meet that glare would most certainly lead to further pain.

So, now feeling proper panic set in as he was unable to do as he was ordered, Merlin did the only thing he could and lowered his head further.

The answering sharp pain to the back of his skull caused Merlin’s balance to be thrown and the force smashed his head into the cold stone beneath his knees. A new pain blossomed on his forehead just at the hairline, mingling with that on the back of his head and the now dull burn on his cheek. He couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe that he was currently in this situation. It was like bringing back all the helplessness, all the fear, all the doubts he had felt during his time with the slavers and the months following. 

Just breathe. In and...

“Get out!” Farin yelled, grabbing a handful of Merlin’s hair and throwing him toward the door. Merlin needed no further prompting.

He quickly scrambled to his feet, stumbling in his haste to vacate the chambers. It seemed only a second later that Merlin found himself striding firmly down a corridor, but which one, he couldn’t be bothered to take notice nor could he remember how he had come to be there. But it didn’t matter. Merlin stopped suddenly and leaned against the wall, reaching a hand up to wipe the angry tears he could now feel running down his cheeks. 

He was humiliated and ashamed and so very angry not only at the brute of a lord that had hit him—twice!—but also at himself for not being able to speak up or willing to stand up for himself. It was truly shameful.

It was then that realization washed over Merlin like a icy water.

He hadn’t truly been able to stand up for himself since his disability. Glares and pointed looks only went so far and miming and writing were practically useless in the heat of an argument. Arthur had to be his voice during the arguments that arose in the council and frankly, Merlin pretty much stayed out of them—apparently his subconscious had known he wouldn’t be able to get a word in easily. He understood now. Even when an older council member voiced their disapproval of his new title, whether it be during council or in passing in the corridors, others had always had to challenge them and send them on their way. There was really nothing he could do but stand there and take it. They never attempted to discern his miming, never even tried to offer him a chance to get a word in the only way he could nowadays. What was the point? 

He was helpless to defend himself verbally.

Merlin blew out a breath, knowing that there was little point wasting time wallowing at this new realization. It was what it was and he had to just be grateful he had friends who were willing to defend him where he could not. It was comforting and helped to diminish the humiliation and shame he felt at what had occurred only minutes previously. A small smile broke out on his face and he straightened, both mentally and physically brushing himself off as he pushed off the wall. His head was still throbbing painfully, the beginning of a headache making itself known. He knew by the end of the day his head would be pounding something fierce, but he would deal with that when the time came

For now, he had a king’s summons to answer.

* * *

Merlin closed the door to Arthur’s chambers behind him as he entered the corridor beyond, having been enclosed in the king’s chambers long enough for the sun to have traveled a good distance toward the horizon. He sighed in relief, glad to have made it out of there without incident.

Arthur it seemed, was not completely unobservant.

Granted, Merlin had not been entirely in his right mind after the incident with Lord Farin and had therefore blatantly forgotten to erase any and all evidence of what had occurred off his face. Arthur had been on his feet and across the room the second Merlin had walked through the door, grasping his chin gently and turning his head from side to side to inspect the damage he claimed to be there. Apparently, when Merlin’s head had become well acquainted with the floor, it had left a gash upon his hairline that had been steadily bleeding ever since. And his cheek hadn’t fared much better, red with a hint of bruising. 

Of course that had soon led to Arthur asking why Merlin was this way. So Merlin, being the idiot that he was in trying to avoid the humiliation and what was sure to lead to an argument he couldn’t compete in, not to even mention the unwelcomed pity, had described with fluent wide gestures—ones that Arthur always understood perfectly, a fact that Merlin put down to the bond that they shared—a fabricated battle with the natural pull of the ground on the way to Arthur’s chambers. And Arthur, having witnessed Merlin’s clumsiness first hand on multiple occasions, just chuckled in response, sitting Merlin down and cleaning the blood off his face, handing him a bit of cloth to stem the bleeding and telling him to go visit Gaius once they were through.

“We won’t be too long Merlin, then you can go get your clumsy self patched up.”

Then had begun the long discussion about the affairs that were going to be laid out the following day during the meeting with Lord Farin. Arthur spoke about how it had all been done in the past, how his father had commanded these sort of meetings and what Merlin should expect to be discussed and debated. Then he had reiterated that Merlin was to keep out of the lord’s way as much as possible whilst the man was here, at least until they could explain Merlin’s situation. Merlin knew it was much too late for that but didn’t think Arthur needed to know that just yet. It was of little importance really and would be a moot point in a few days. No point in bringing it up.

Arthur had then dismissed Merlin for the night claiming another servant was going to bring him his dinner. He knew the young warlock was nervous for tomorrow and told him he was going to do just fine—despite his idiocy—and to just get a good night’s rest.

A small smile broke out onto Merlin’s face as he slowly made his way toward Gaius’ chambers still holding a small bit of cloth to the cut on his forehead. Arthur had become a lot more understanding and observant of Merlin’s moods the last few months—ever since his kidnapping—more so during the past couple of weeks following his position change which was more like an added duty, really but who was counting. Ever since he had sent out a patrol of knights to shut down the band of slavers—he had wanted to go himself but Merlin refused to stay behind if Arthur was going and Arthur, not wanting Merlin to relive the horrors he had been through there, had grudgingly decided to skip out on the patrol despite his desire to wreak havoc on the men that had done all this to his friend—it was like Arthur was more attuned to Merlin’s emotions. Their bond was stronger than ever now, deeper and more ingrained in their souls than before.

Merlin was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even look up as he rounded the corner and promptly smacked into something very stolid and very human-like. His head snapped up as he stumbled back, taking note of the various expletives that were now filling the corridor, emancipating from the man before him. The man who, Merlin realized, was painfully familiar, including the newly acquired red stain now spreading across his clean tunic and the now empty goblet rolling on its axis at his feet. 

Lord Farin. Merlin winced. He really did have the worst luck, it seemed.

“Look what you have done you insolent—,” the lord began before he looked up and his eyes widened upon recognizing Merlin. “You,” he growled taking a threatening step forward into Merlin’s space and it was then that the young warlock was able to smell the wine on the lord’s breath and the way the man’s eyes seemed slightly clouded. Great, the man was drunk. But Merlin, with the realization he had made earlier still ringing in his ears, stood his ground, determined not to cower before the lord this time. 

It didn’t matter though. Before Merlin could hardly even register it, a hand collided painfully with the side of his head and he went reeling back. His brain had hardly even took note of the pain before it increased with another blow to the head soon followed by another before Merlin felt his knees hit the floor with a cry of pain.

“That’s twice now! Twice I have had to bear the burden of your incompetence, servant. King Arthur shall surely hear about this along with your blatant refusal to address me properly,” Lord Farin all but yelled, his eyes burning with hatred as he glared down at Merlin. “How dare you.”

"What do you think you are doing?" A cold but achingly familiar voice sounded down the corridor, and Merlin, though he was ashamed to admit it, sighed in relief.

"Ah, King Arthur, at last,” Lord Farin said, his voice instantly changing from one of malice to one of regard. Merlin chanced a glance up, his eyes widening as he watched Arthur approach, anger in his eyes and stride barely controlled at a walk. “This servant needs to be flogged at once. He refuses to apologize for his continued incompetence," the lord demanded, pointing a finger accusingly at Merlin. "He has once again managed to ruin another one of my tunics! Now, I know the court your father ran here and if I might say, yours needs to be amended, starting with this one."

Merlin watched with bated breath as Arthur’s face darkened, his eyes glinting but he took a deep measured breath before stating calmly, "While I appreciate your concern Lord Farin, my court runs just fine. I apologize on behalf of my servant. He is unable to speak as he no longer has the means to do so and is therefore incapable of verbally apologizing."

Lord Farin’s scowl soon turned into a look of puzzlement as he gazed at Merlin. Merlin tried not to squirm under the scrutiny but instead stared back defiantly, trying to hold together what was left of his dignity. Not a second later, the puzzlement turned into understanding and a smirk spread across Farin’s face. "Oh ho. I take back what I said then. Seems you know the proper way to reprimand your staff. Removing his tongue, I'll have to remember that one,” the lord stated with a smirk as he gazed at Merlin again. Arthur followed the man’s line of sight, eyes coming to rest on Merlin’s face for the first time since he had happened upon them in the corridor. And Merlin could see the moment Arthur realized what had truly been going on, the moment the king’s face hardened with uncontrolled anger as Farin finished with a, “You have my compliments."

The next second, Farin had joined Merlin on the cold stones of the corridor, having been spectacularly knocked on his back by a full force punch from King Arthur himself. What an honor.

"You have outstayed your welcome,” Arthur spat, shaking out his hand as he glowering down upon the disgraced lord. “You have until morning to leave the castle or I will be forced to have you escorted out. And my knights will not be gentle."

"What's the meaning of this?!” Farin demanded in disbelief. “You can't just throw me out?!

Arthur ignored him, kneeling down to help Merlin to his feet. Once there, albeit precariously as now Merlin’s head was ringing fiercely and pounding out a rhythm like a whole patrol of men on horseback had decided to stampede through his skull, Arthur looked Merlin in the eye after a quick once over. “You alright Merlin?”

Merlin nodded, regretting it the moment he did as the pounding in his head increased dramatically and he winced. Arthur scowled, disbelief marring his face and silently telling Merlin this conversation was far from over. Merlin just looked back in understanding which seemed to finally be enough of an answer for Arthur as he turned back and faced Lord Farin who had by now, gotten to his feet. 

"You have disrespected my court and my court advisor,” Arthur said in answer to the man’s previous statement. “Be lucky that Merlin here left my sword in the armory or you would be walking away with more than a bruised cheek. You. Are. Dismissed."

Anger once again flooded Lord Farin’s features and he took a step forward almost threatening. "How dare you! I am a valued member of the kingdom, of your fathers!"

"My father is no longer a part of this world. I am king and I make the decisions now.” Arthur paused then, clearly contemplating something before appeared to come to a conclusion. “Clearly you have no respect for anyone, including myself. Therefore, I feel no qualms at all about banishing you from Camelot."

Merlin’s eyes widened at Arthur’s words. He had not expected that. He was a servant, a low-born, not someone who’s threatened well-being should elicit such punishment. He was court advisor now but still that title had surely not put him above even the various lords of the outlying villages. No, Arthur was making a mistake, something Merlin couldn’t let him do. The punishment did not fit the crime.

Lord Farin, with barely concealed anger, was stumbling out apologies and reasons why he should be pardoned now that he realized the stakes were so high, but Merlin ignored him, instead grasping Arthur’s arm and gently squeezing it to gain his attention. Arthur looked over at the young warlock, eyes searching his face. And Merlin, although he knew the pain it would cause, shook his head, attempting to convey to Arthur what he was trying to say. 

“Merlin, he—,” Arthur began in defense of his actions but Merlin just glared at him pointedly. _I know what he did you clotpole, but this isn’t right either_. Arthur, Merlin could tell, understood his message but still opened his mouth to argue once more but Merlin just tilted his head up, unmoving in his decision. Finally, with a sigh, Arthur conceded.

“Lord Farin, I will not banish you from Camelot,” Arthur stated, interrupting the string of apologies from the lord. Lord Farin opened his mouth again, no doubt to offer his gratitude for being spared that injustice but Arthur interrupted him again. “But this is only because Merlin here does not wish it to be so. You will, however, be removed as Lord of your village and stripped of your title entirely.” Arthur looked over at Merlin then, tilting his head up authoritatively as he concluded, “That, I will not budge on.”

Merlin just sighed in resignation and gave a gentle small nod to show his understanding.

“Thank you, milord,” Farin said as he bowed his head in gratitude, the anger still present in his eyes, but knowing that this was as good as he was to hope for given the circumstances.

“It is not me you should be thanking, Farin,” Arthur stated.

Farin’s head shot up then, glaring disbelievingly at Arthur. But Merlin just watched as Arthur glared darkly back, face impassive. And Merlin felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment at what was sure to come.

Farin, no doubt seeing there was no way past it, turned his glare to Merlin before growling out of gritted teeth, “Thank you, servant.”

“Merlin,” Arthur corrected.

Farin paused, his jaw working in anger. “Thank you, Merlin,” he spat.

Without another word, Arthur gently grabbed onto Merlin’s bicep and steered him toward Gaius’ chambers leaving the disgraced man standing alone in a wine soaked tunic in the empty corridor.

Arthur was silent for a few minutes, which Merlin was grateful for as it allowed him the chance to gather his thoughts and work out how he was going to explain everything that had happened to his king. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Arthur to know what Farin had done earlier in the day because he honestly hadn’t wanted Arthur to find out about what had just occurred either. He was humiliated and angry at his lack of ability to stand up for himself, having to rely on Arthur to dispel the situation. But at the same time he was thankful Arthur had shown up when he had. There was no telling how far Farin would have gone had Merlin continued to attempt to defend his dignity with glares and defiant actions.

But Arthur washed all of Merlin’s thoughts away a second later, as the two of them ascended the stairs to Gaius’ chambers. “You didn’t really trip earlier, did you?”

Merlin whipped his head toward Arthur so fast, he had to pause in his ascent in order to allow the influx of pain in his skull time to recede. When he looked back up at Arthur, the king quickly schooled his features to ones of impatience rather than the concern Merlin had caught a fleeting glimpse of not a second before. But he nodded in assent.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Merlin? This whole thing could have been avoided,” Arthur remarked. “Well, your part in it, at least.”

Merlin huffed out in annoyance, not really wanting to get into his fears and shame at the moment but knowing that Arthur would likely not let it go until Merlin had confessed. So, with a few thought-out gestures and hand motions coupled with exaggerated looks, Merlin explained the realization he had come to and his desire to prove to himself that he could overcome it.

Arthur paused, stopping at the top of the stairs before Gaius’ door and turning to face the young warlock. “Merlin, you may not be able to speak your mind yourself, but that does not mean that the words are not your own. You still have strength and wisdom and are able to stand up for yourself just maybe not always _by_ yourself. And there is nothing wrong with that. We are all draw strength from each other, god knows I do from you more often than not—don’t give me that look, Merlin, it’s true though if you ever tell anyone I said that, I will deny it and make you muck out the stables for a week. You are the bravest, strongest man I know, how could I not?”

He looked at Merlin then with such love and loyalty and whole-hearted belief that the young warlock, for a moment, felt completely invincible, like there wasn’t anything he could not do. Arthur was right, he still had a voice, could still stand strong himself. Yes, he would always rely on others in order to do so, but as long as those people included his friends, Gaius, and especially Arthur, he knew he would be able to stand tall. He was still Merlin, still destined to guide and protect the Once and Future King so he could bring about the age of magic and peace, he just needed a little help from his friends along the way. Like Arthur said, there was nothing wrong with that.

“Don’t ever forget Merlin, you are important,” Arthur instructed, a smile breaking out upon his face. Merlin couldn’t help answering it with one of his own. “If not to anyone else, at least to me.”

After a few beats, Arthur shrugged nonchalantly, before breaking the moment with a teasing grin as he stated, “That should be reason enough. A real honor. After all, I am the king.”  
Merlin just answered with a one-shoulder shrug, eyes glancing over at Arthur as he raised one brow, mockingly. The king gave him a look of feigned hurt and opened the door to the physician’s chambers, ushering Merlin in before the young warlock could silently tease him further.


End file.
